


The A-Tisket A-Tasket Affair

by MariaPriest



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:51:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15278964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest
Summary: After Illya completes his mission to find out how the diamonds were stolen in The See-Paris-And-Die Affair, he is quickly assigned a courier job.





	The A-Tisket A-Tasket Affair

Discovering how the diamond heist was pulled off in Amsterdam turned out to be rather straightforward. Upon reporting his findings to Alexander Waverly, Illya Kuryakin had a new assignment: proceed to Rotterdam to retrieve the reversed-engineered THRUSH hypnosis-inducing formula and bring it to UNCLE-New York for antidote development.

Illya understood that at times, Section II agents were called upon for courier duty, for any number of reasons. He didn't care for it, but not because it was beneath him as a top agent. It was because these jobs frequently turned out to be quite dangerous and just as often, there was no backup or partner.

He sighed at intuition rearing its non-scientific head yet again and telling him this wasn't going to be a walk in the park. He listened because it had saved his and Napoleon's lives multiple times.

So, he took his throbbing head and what little was left of his dignity – given that in Paris he'd been stripped of his trousers, romanced by Madame Grushenka, and humiliated for not finding the diamonds sooner – to the port city. The only thing good about this mission, the opportunity to see his friend, was not to be; Dr. Esposito would be passing the microfilmed formula to him via a drop.

oOo

As soon as he was reasonably sure he wasn't being followed, Illya entered the designated delicatessen near the statue of Erasmus. He was hungry and fortunately the deli had excellent sandwiches and pastries.

Illya was relieved that there was only one customer, who was earnestly reading a book. “Hello, Daniël,” he said in Dutch to the middle-aged man behind the counter. “I will have the usual.”

“Of course. I'll put it on your uncle's account.” Daniël twitched his head toward the back room – the signal that the microfilm had been delivered.

Illya nodded and quietly slipped into the room, certain it was unnoticed by the reader.

The microfilm was exactly where it should have been. He wasted no time removing his belt and sliding the film into the hidden pouch. He cracked open the door just wide enough to peer out. Nothing had changed, so he exited as quietly as he'd entered.

The hungry agent grinned widely at the double espresso, roast beef sandwich, and two pastries waiting for him on the counter. He laid down a 2-1/2 guilder coin as a tip. He thanked Daniël and carried the tray to a table near the rear exit and sat facing the front. His eyes alight with anticipation, he lifted the sandwich to his open mouth but stopped when four men suddenly appeared near his table. Illya castigated himself for not paying attention to his surroundings.

Three of the men were huge and one small one was Esposito, whose arm was twisted behind his back by a chunky hand.

“I am so sorry, Illya,” Javier said. “They used truth serum on me. And they burned everything in my lab.”

“No, Javier, I'm sorry this happened to you.”

“Shut up, Kuryakin,” growled the ursine THRUSH. “Hand over the formula.”

“I will do so peacefully if you let Dr. Esposito go.”

“I'll take it under consideration.”

Of course they wouldn't. Javier, as the source of the analysis, most assuredly was under a death warrant and was being used to elicit Illya's cooperation. Now with the lab gone, the microfilm became even more important.

The scientist was not going to die if he could help it. Fortunately, both Daniël and the other customer had disappeared. Two less innocents to worry about. He formulated a plan, knowing it was unlikely to succeed.

Illya threw his sandwich – _What a waste_ , he moaned – at the THRUSH on the far right while simultaneously flinging the coffee across the faces of the other two. He pushed away from the table and stood while drawing his weapon and activating a personal tracker.

But the man plastered with bread and beef recovered too quickly and shot Kuryakin with a sleep dart. He fell back and over the chair, unconscious before his head hit the floor.

The THRUSHman holding the shocked Esposito unhesitatingly executed the scientist. “We can't be seen carrying Kuryakin out of here. Find something to dump him in.”

They found a laundry basket on wheels, large enough to hold the UNCLE agent, on one side of the counter. A THRUSHman easily balled Illya up and sandwiched him between some dirty linen. They left, so focused on getting out with their prize, that they neglected to see Daniël watching through a crack in the back room door.

oOo

“Solo here.”

“Ah, Mr. Solo. You are to leave for Rotterdam immediately. The Paris office has arranged transportation. Mr., um, Kuryakin has been captured while in possession of a most important microfilm. You are to find and retrieve both quickly. Start at the delicatessen used for drops where he was last seen.” Waverly cut the connection.

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Napoleon said under his breath in response to Waverly's brusqueness. Thinking about that kept the worry about his partner somewhat in check.

oOo

Hours later, Napoleon was in Rotterdam. According to Daniël's recounting, Illya had had sufficient time to actuate a tracker and was tranquilized. He was quick to point out that Illya had tried but couldn't prevent Esposito's death.

Napoleon sighed. He'd have to pick the right time to inform Illya about Javier. But he had to find his partner first. With any luck, the signal – and Illya – would still be in range of the detector.

Luck was with him. A part-time agent, an elderly woman who worked in the port master's office and monitored for anything suspicious, drove efficiently at Solo's directions.

“Ah, Irena, my dear, I believe we've reached our destination.” It was a small building, probably only two or three rooms, not far from the port master's.

“This place has been quiet,” she said in accented English. “Tomorrow, I look into it.”

“Much appreciated, Irena.” He patted her arm. “In ten minutes, call the police, all right?” He smiled at her nod.

Napoleon, Special in hand, sidled up to the building. He smiled again when he heard two voices carrying on a conversation through an open window, and neither voice was Illya's.

He glimpsed quickly over the sill. There were three men, all goliaths, sitting around a table, drinking Grolsch lager. Oddly enough, there was a large basket present. _Hiding in there, partner?_

He ducked below the sill to make sure his weapon was set for sleep darts. He took a breath, stood tall enough to get a good bead on each one. He fired three shots in rapid succession and three men were asleep in as many seconds.

The door posed no problem. “Tsk-tsk, boys. Open window, unlocked door. Such a lack of professionalism,” he whispered. He checked each THRUSH to make sure they were out before he headed for the container.

There his partner was, out like a light and curled up like a threatened armadillo. Glancing at the wall clock, he calculated the drug would be wearing off soon. He grinned when he thought of what to say to a wakening partner.

Gently, he lifted Illya's chin and lightly tapped his face a few times. “Wake up, little buttercup.” He was soon rewarded with a long moan.

Illya opened unfocused, bleary eyes. “Wha'? Na-na-poleon?”

“'A-tisket, a-tasket.'”

“Wha'?” Illya repeated.

“You're a blue-eyed, yellow-haired basket _case_.”

Illya sighed, too groggy and headachy to understand or care what Napoleon was saying. All he knew at the moment was that he still had on his trousers – and the microfilm – and therefore a shred of dignity.

Then he realized what had likely happened to Javier, and threw up all over his clothes.

 _Sometimes I hate my job_.

the end  
copyright 2018

**Author's Note:**

> The title and some of Napoleon's dialogue refers to an American nursery rhyme recorded in the 19th century by unknown artist(s) and later in 1938 by the fabulous Ella Fitzgerald.
> 
> Thanks to CoriKay for the beta, especially her excellent suggestions.
> 
> Response to a Section VII challenge with prompts of basket and blue


End file.
